Please RSVP with a roofie in my drink and a disregard for my human rights

July 18, 2011

So Anonymous Doug and I are still out along the side of the street waiting for the SlutWalk to begin. He’s about halfway through his first case of beer and I’m working my IV drip of rum pretty good. Working a pretty good buzz at 10am isn’t easy, especially when you have a whole afternoon ahead of you. And shortly after 10:15 we are joined by Tina the Lesbian, who is not dressed as a slut.

“I’m glad to see you two supporting the cause,” says Tina the Lesbian.

“Yeah, the cause of women dressed like sluts walking down the street!” says Anonymous Doug.

“No, it’s to make people aware that if you’re dressed in a somewhat alluring manner that it’s not invitation to you rape you,” says Tina the Lesbian.

“Unless it’s a gang rape and you’re invited by one of the other gang rapers,” I say.

“But that’s a whole other matter,” says Anonymous Doug. “We’re talking about rape invitations given out by women in halter tops and hot pants.”

“Halter tops, hot pants, or any other outfit are not rape invitations,” says Tina the Lesbian. “Nothing is a rape invitation.”

“That would be weird to open your mailbox and find a letter from a woman saying ‘You’ve been invited to rape me,'” says Anonymous Doug. “Like I’m being invited to a birthday party or a wedding.”

“You can’t buy that invitation at the Hallmark store either,” I say. “You have to make it yourself.”

“I bet the calligraphy on rape invitations are exquisite,” says Anonymous Doug. “You put a lot of work into choosing someone to violate you, and this card is going to display that time and effort.”

“The pleasure of your forced and violent company is requested next Friday at eight-thirty in my living room,” I say. “Please RSVP by Monday and select which dinner entree you would like before ravaging my unwilling body.”

“And then you’d have to check your calendar to see if you were free to rape that evening,” says Anonymous Doug. “Damn, I would be so there for that rape but I’ve got tickets to the Def Leppard/Heart concert that evening.”

“It would be weird knowing that someone else got a rape invitation and I didn’t,” I say. “At first I’d be relieved because… hey, I’m not being asked to get take part in a brutal violation of human dignity. But depending on who got invited, I might be a little offended. Like, ‘You invited HIM to rape you? That asshole?’ Have you lost all sense of taste?’ Not that I would partake in a rape if invited, but I’d like to think I was held in high enough esteem to at least be considered before certain other people.”

“So it’s settled, rape invitations are not in the form of mini-skirts and cleavage-bearing tops,” says Anonymous Doug. “They are beautifully crafted cards with awesome calligraphy, flowery language, and maybe a nice ribbon too. Make it look classy.”

“Rape Invitation would be a cool name for a socially-conscious punk band,” I say. “Tina, would you go see a band called Rape Invitation?”

This is when finally noticed the incredulous look on Tina’s face, a look we suspect has been there since the conversation over rape invitations started.

“Can I use your IV of rum?” Tina asks me. “Because I need to get so drunk that I don’t remember anything I just heard.”

I give her my extra IV bag of rum (always be prepared) and run a line into her arm. It’s a shame she’ll forget the SlutWalk, but Doug and I will be sure to share our photos with her.